I Can't Believe
by Merton Lynn
Summary: Okay this is Sidney thinking back on Randy. Please read and reivew. I promise its really good! Please review, review review!


I still can't believe he's gone. Even to this day. I still remember every detail of the day Dewey told me he was dead. 

I had just been in an argument with Cotton and I was taken to the police station with Officer Richards and Officer Andrews when Dewey came in. I could tell immediately that something was wrong. He walked to me and sat down. I could see the pain in his eyes. He took my hand and at first I thought something had happened to Gale. But I knew it was much more serious because Hallie had just taken a seat next to me and rested a hand on my shoulder.

"Dewey, what's wrong?" I asked. Dewey didn't even answer right away or even tried. He licked his lips and inhaled deeply.

"Its Randy," 

That's all it took. That's what made me know what was going on. 

"No," I said. "Not Randy."

"Sid, I'm sorry…but…the killer called and got Randy in Joel's van and he didn't…he didn't make it,"

"No!" I yelled. Most of the people looked at me. I didn't care. "No! He can't be dead! Not him!" I felt the tears roll off my cheek, and I lowered my voice. "Not him." I rested my head on my hand. "It shouldn't have been Randy…it should've been me."

Its shouldn't have been Randy. It was my fault he got involved in all of this. He should've had protection like I did, a cop or something. Everyone was paying attention to me and not even thinking of him. I never even thought of him. That he'd be hurt much less killed. When I thought that finding out about his death was bad…I wasn't prepared for the funeral.

I walked up to the casket trembling the whole time. I got closer with each step until I reached it. I looked at him. He looked so peaceful. His light blue eyes were closed forever. He looked strange to me in a suit. I was so used to seeing him in neon or dark colored t-shirts. What I wouldn't have given to have him there to hold my hand threw this.

I stood over his closed coffin now and I placed a rose on it. They slowly lowered him into the ground away from my site forever.

That's when I decided to hide myself away from the world. My best friend was dead and I…I just couldn't deal with it anymore. So after college I moved to Monterey, changed my name and got a job as a consoler for a women's crisis center. It wasn't long before a killer struck again. That's when Martha came by with Randy's tape. I could barely stand to look at it. The thing that really made me look away was the outfit he was wearing. He was wearing a burgundy shirt and I think jeans…I can't remember his pants but I remember the shirt. He had that shirt on when we found out about the murders at the movie theater. He knew he was going to die. He knew it. That's what made me turn away. 

Soon after, I found out who the killer was and for now, everything is happily ever after. Mark doesn't live with me but he still visits constantly, Gale and Dewey are on their honeymoon. I still have Cherokee to keep me company. But everyday I can't help but to stop and think about Randy.

Sometimes I think it's amazing the things I remember about him now that he's gone. I can remember every single horror movie he's ever talked about. I remember the first day we met in junior high. I remember when I use to visit him at work after school. All the jokes he made. I now realize that he had feelings for me. I mean we kissed once but that was like in seventh grade and it was at a stupid party with spin the bottle and it was only a peck on the lips. But as I look back on these times I see how he cared for me. 

I have tangible things to remember him by too. His mother had told me I could have something to remember him. So when Martha and I cleaned out his dorm room I asked her if I could have his class ring, which was lying on his dresser. She told me yes, and I also took one other thing and that was a half written horror script he had been working on.

But not matter what I have, the ring or the script, the think I'll always remember about him were his light blue eyes. They were always intense and focused on whatever he looked at, especially when he made eye contact.

Now as I walk to my home with Cherokee to my side I wonder how things would be if he had made it threw, if Mrs. Loomis hadn't gotten 'knife happy' as she put it. Would we have ever gotten together as more than friends? I'll never know. But all I can do now is remember the good times and never let his memory die. I owe him that much


End file.
